Kiss Before DyingKiss After Dying
by lilyevansJan30
Summary: Two one-shots I wrote soon after DH was published, about whether and how Harry could have stopped to say goodbye to Ginny on the way to meet his death.
1. A Kiss Before Dying

2019 A/N: Recently, someone suggested I add my old SIYE stories to , so over the next week or two, I'm going to be working on it. I'm not going to edit them, despite the fact that I'd likely write a lot of them differently now. Here's the first. I was really proud of it back when I wrote it in 2008. Now I cringe a little at how many sentence fragments and overly dramatic pauses it contains, but Harry and Ginny's characterizations are fairly close (albeit a little mushier) to what I write now.

2008 Author's Notes:

I wrote this as a result of a discussion I have been having with a couple of writers here about whether they think they could have done what Harry did in DH - walking right past Ginny on his way to Voldemort without stopping, and, in a broader sense, whether it would be possible for anyone, knowing they were about to die (I tried to imagine myself on a 9/11 plane and considered whether I could have called my husband - morbid, I know, but I was trying to get into Harry's mind).

Most people were of the opinion that it would have been next to impossible for Harry to have stopped - thinking that there is no way he could have gone on afterwards. I disagreed for a number of reasons. First, as this story hopefully captures, I just think it is the right thing for him to have done, and what he really wanted and needed. Second, I think that logistically, JKR did not have Harry stop because it would have interrupted the intense flow of the plot at that point in the story. Also, I think that because she knew that Harry was going to ultimately survive, it was easier for her to have him not stop, and to let us fill in the blanks of Harry's and Ginny's eventual reconciliation.

Interestingly, as I reread the relevant part of DH before writing this story, I realized that JKR says almost nothing about the reasons Harry does not stop when he sees Ginny. Immediately after coming out of the Pensieve, he mentions that he would give up all his time remaining for one last glimpse of those he loves - the Weasleys, Ron, Hermione, Luna, but is glad none are around because if he took a single glance, would he ever be able to stop looking? That is the extent of Harry's thoughts, about why he is not looking for anyone to whom he can say goodbye, and yet, until I reread the chapter, I was sure there was more. Interesting the way our thoughts work to fill in the blanks.

I still have no idea what I would do if, G-d forbid, I was faced with a similar situation, and I can't disagree with JKR's decisions for DH, given what she needed to accomplish, but it definitely left me feeling like something was missing. I set out to write a story that I think captures why Harry would have (and should have) stopped, and what would have taken place. Whether you agree with the result or not, please review. And a huge thanks to both hgfan1111 and Ella for giving me great constructive criticism and general help. And yes, Ella, I will write the reunion sequel as soon as Taking the Train is finished!

HPHPHPHPHP

No air.

Suddenly, there was no air. None to breathe, none in Harry's lungs, nowhere. Odd, that his Invisibility Cloak was suddenly suffocating him. That was it, wasn't it? He felt as though he had fallen twenty feet off his broom and had the wind knocked permanently out of him, but without any pain from hitting the ground.

Except, of course, the pain in his heart. Somehow, it was still beating, despite the lack of breath, despite the fact that each thump ticked away one more of the few seconds Harry now knew he had left to live.

In the short minutes since he had finally learned his destiny, his true purpose and meaning in the fight against Voldemort, Harry's body had been operating almost automatically, moving him out of the Headmaster's office, through the castle, down the front steps. He had seen the devastation with detached eyes, heard cries and moans that did not register. His talk with Neville happened out of necessity, without conscious thought. Nothing could deter him from the path he must take. The path leading into the Forbidden Forest and the path of his life, now converged, both ending in the same place. Voldemort, a Killing Curse, a last Horcrux destroyed, certain death. There was nothing for it, nothing else to do, but to keep walking forward.

Except now, he couldn't breathe.

The reason was obvious, although Harry's brain, closed off from his surroundings, refused to let him see it at first. But, of course, he couldn't ignore it.

Ginny.

She was kneeling in the grass beside a fallen student, speaking softly, telling her that she was going to be okay. Ginny's voice penetrated the shell surrounding Harry like nothing else could; he wished it was to him she was speaking so reassuringly. It was a tone of voice he remembered from one of those stolen moments during his Sixth year, when they had taken a break from kissing and jokes and talking about Quidditch and OWLs. When he had let himself admit to her that he was scared. Scared about fulfilling the prophecy, scared about whether he had a future -no, whether they had a future - scared for the safety of her family and their friends.

"Are you scared of facing Voldemort?" Ginny was sitting in his lap as he leaned back against "their" tree, his legs wrapped casually around hers. Somehow, not looking her in the face made it easier to talk about. If he looked right at her, he would let himself get lost in her eyes and he would hesitate, not wanting to see pain or sadness in them. Not wanting to be the one to put it there with his words. Not to mention the fact that he could never look at Ginny for too long without wanting to kiss her and hold her and not think about much of anything other than how good he felt.

"No." Harry answered truthfully. "Not of him." He thought for a moment. "I've faced him before in frightening situations, but I've never been scared of him. I hate him too much, I think. He's too evil for me to fear."

Harry paused, gathering his thoughts. "What scares me is thinking about all I have to do to get to that point - where I face him for the final time. And even more, I worry about what everyone else is going to have to do, and what Voldemort, or his Death Eaters might do to them. I'm terrified of the thought that people I . . . I love, could get hurt in this fight, because of me. You know what happened in the Department of Mysteries. It's only going to get worse, before the end. Once we get to the final confrontation, it's going to be almost over, one way or another. And I just hope that everyone I care about is still alive to see it.

Harry remembered, so clearly, Ginny's response to him. She had spoken in the same calmly reassuring voice she was using to speak to the injured girl, and her words had washed over him like a warm blanket.

"You know this is not your fight alone, Harry, no matter what the prophecy says." When he had tried to protest, she had turned around in his lap and gently placed a finger on his lips. "Shhh, I know, I know, there are things you can't tell me. But we would all be involved no matter what. My mum lost her brothers in the first war, before you were even born. My dad has been a blood traitor his entire life. We are fighting for what we believe in just as much as we are fighting with you." She had looked him right in the eyes then. "With you, Harry, not for you. And when it comes time for that final battle, we are all going to be there. Until the end." Ginny wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned forward so that her words were almost no more than warm breath on his face.

"I'm going to be there. Forever."

Watching Ginny now from under his Cloak, Harry realized he had lied. This was the end, it was time for him to face Voldemort, and he was terrified.

"_Was it only because he knew how it was going to end that he was so scared?"_

Harry didn't know how to answer his internal question. Maybe if he still thought he had a chance to survive this, he would feel differently. Maybe if it felt like a battle, and not a sacrifice, he could think about strategies and spells and diversions. But he had none of that. He only had Ginny's voice in his head and loss in his heart.

But Ginny's voice was fading, and Harry realized that his traitorous feet had kept moving on their pre-determined path towards the Forest.

"_It's better this way. I'm already dead. Saying goodbye will only make it harder."_

"_**For you or for her?"**_ A new little voice awoke in his head, breaking through the numbing mist that was swirling inside, waiting for oblivion.

"_For both of us,"_ Harry thought firmly, but again, he knew he lied.

" _**You don't think you'll be able to do it, if you stop for her first. "**_ The little voice was insistent.

That was the truth. Just looking at her was excruciating. How could he talk to her? Touch her? Merlin help him, kiss her? He would never be able to leave, right?

If he admitted it to himself, he almost hoped she would stop him from going.

And that simply could not happen.

But the voice would not quiet. _**"What about her pain? What if she was the one laying injured on the ground right now? "**_

"_No question,"_ thought Harry. "_Of course I would stop if she was hurt."_

"_**Exactly. She is hurt, kneeling there on the ground. She just doesn't know it yet**__."_

"But, but . . . telling her before I'm . . . telling her now would make it worse." Harry barely realized he had spoken out loud.

" _**Why?"**_

"_Because . . . it's not fair to make her mourn me before I'm gone. It's cruel. Afterwards . . . afterwards her grief will be pure. Right now it will hurt too much, to have to grieve for me with me right there."_

"_**You are thinking about your own pain again. You don't want to see her hurting. But she is going to hurt no matter what you do. And you won't be around to make it better then."**_

"_She would be spared the knowing . . ." _Harry tried again, his thoughts swirling.

"_**She would be spared the thought that she could have stopped you, right? And part of you wants her to try ."**_

"_Ginny would never . . ."_

"_**Exactly. Ginny would never. That is why you have to make it better now. Yourself. Before you leave her alone."**_

The voice of his heart won over that of his mind. Harry was barely conscious of walking back the way he came, but his purpose was clear. He had left her for an entire year, dammit, and the two or three words and glances they had exchanged tonight were not going to be her final memories of him, after all that time apart. He couldn't leave her with his refusals to let her fight, his admonitions to stay safe, and nothing else.

"She would kill me if I didn't stop to say goodbye."

The completely inappropriate thought appeared out of nowhere and Harry found himself almost chuckling at the incongruity of it. But it reflected the truth of Ginny and he didn't try to hold back his grin. A second later he was serious again, as the reality of his situation came flooding back. There would be no more time for laughter for him.

Ginny was still in the same spot, standing now and watching as two other individuals carefully levitated the fallen girl on a makeshift stretcher, floating her towards the castle. Only after she was safely away did Ginny turn back to the lawn, ready to look for more victims. Harry stood just feet away from her, still under his Cloak, drinking in the sight.

Ginny took a few steps forward and stopped, her eyes narrowed and concentrating, as if she was trying to hear something too far away to make out. After a moment, she shook her head impatiently and made as if to walk down towards the lake. Harry could wait no longer.

"Ginny."

She stopped again, confused. "Harry?"

"I'm . . . I'm here." He slowly pulled off the Cloak, letting it dangle in his hand, helpless to move forward.

Ginny didn't move either. She just looked at him for a long minute with an almost unreadable expression on her face. It was as if she was not sure if she should gasp or yell or launch herself into his arms and Apparate them both far away. But Harry understood. She knew. He could have scripted her next words.

"No, Harry." Ginny didn't scream, she didn't sob or beg or cry. She was completely calm, as if logic was all that was needed to make her point.

In almost any other situation, her conviction would have been enough for Harry. He trusted her that much; her opinions carried weight without the need for explanation first. But of course, her sureness would not help this time. With his last ounce of strength, he began to shatter the hope of their future

"I have to, Ginny. There is no other way."

"Stop it." She was still speaking calmly, but there was the faintest air of distress in her words, as if she already knew that words would not be enough. "I told you a year ago, this isn't all about you. We're all here, just like I promised. I'm here. And we're going to keep fighting. You don't . . . you don't have to always play the hero."

She had stepped closer to him as she spoke, and despite the stench of sweat and blood and death that filled the air, Harry could still detect a faint flower about her and it overwhelmed him for a moment. He choked on his next words, looking anywhere but in her eyes, his voice betraying the bitterness and loss and fear that had followed him out of the Pensieve.

"I'm not playing the hero anymore, Ginny. I'm . . . the victim. The sacrifice."

He couldn't stand it anymore. With a quiet cry, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her holding on to her so tightly they might have been fused together. He could feel her heart beating against his and wondered, as they stood there, swaying, if Ginny's heart knew. If it could feel the winding down of his.

The next words were the hardest Harry had ever had to say.

"It can't end unless I die."

She pushed back from him then, just far enough to look him in the eyes, and she saw the truth in them. No heroics, no fantastic plans or secret journeys, just the desperate knowledge that there was nothing else that could be done.

"And if you don't . . ." It was not a question.

"Then he can never be beaten."

"Why, Harry?" He heard her unspoken question. "Why you?" She thought he was only doing it to keep the rest of them safe. And he was. But of course, that wasn't all.

Harry had to put the past two years of effort, learning about and destroying the Horcruxes, into a few precious sentences. He knew that the hour Voldemort had given him was waning; he needed to go soon.

"I . . . we . . . Voldemort and I . . ." the words wouldn't come. He looked away from her, as he had done a year ago when he had something difficult to say, and tried again.

"We are connected. Ever since he tried to kill me the first time, a part of him has been . . . inside me." Harry felt Ginny shudder in his arms. "And as long as I am alive . . ." He trailed off, and Ginny finished his words.

"He can't die."

Harry didn't have to explain any more. The implications were clear. And he could see in her eyes that she understood.

This was their end.

Harry recognized the desperation that flashed across Ginny's face then. It held the same feeling that had consumed him and Ron as they stood, trapped, in the dungeon of Malfoy Manor and listened to Hermione scream. It was the look of no hope. And almost immediately, it was replaced by unimaginable pain.

"You see? This is why I shouldn't have stopped!" Harry railed at the voice that had pushed him to Ginny. "Look at how much she is hurting!"

"Look yourself. She is hurting for you, not her."

Harry looked at Ginny with eyes that were as wet as hers. Both voices were wrong. The pain was not for him, or for her. It was for them.

An echoing voice across the grounds broke through the moment. "Harry Potter! I am still waiting!"

Voldemort. "Will you let your friends continue to sacrifice themselves for you? To die? You can save them all, but time is running out. Fifteen minutes are left of your hour. Think about your friends, Harry Potter." The voice died away.

"Gin . . . Ginny . . ." Harry could barely speak past the lump in his throat. There was no time for all the things he wished he could say, to ask her to promise to go on with her life, to tell Ron and Hermione goodbye, to thank her parents. He had to trust that she knew all that.

"Shhh." Ginny's calm demeanor was cracking and she too sounded as if she was barely holding it together. "Just . . . just hold me."

So he held her, trying to clear his mind of everything but the feeling of Ginny, shaking silently in his arms, and failing miserably. And then they were kissing, tentatively at first, but then with an intensity and desperation that did not make any sense, and yet, Harry was powerless to stop it.

This was not a kiss of blissful oblivion or sun-filled days. Harry was painfully aware of his surroundings, of what this kiss meant for him and for Ginny. But, at the same time, the feeling of her was all consuming. And he knew, as he made the kiss shallower and allowed his lips to again trail softly over hers, and across her cheek and into her hair, that she would be strong enough to let him go, even if he was not.

The kiss was over. Harry and Ginny stood there on the lawn just holding each other, neither wanting to be the one to let go, but knowing it would have to be done.

"I love you, Ginny." He had never said it before.

"Yes." There was not really much else to say.

But then, "I love you, Harry."

No one had ever said that to him before, at least, not that he could remember. How could he ever turn his back on that love?

But he did know how.

"I know, Ginny. Forever."

The reason he loved her so much was because she was the kind of girl who could let him go; who could kiss him and love him and send him to die because it was the right thing - no, the only thing, to do. Harry had been grateful a year ago when Ginny had accepted their breakup with understanding and strength. Now he was astonished at what that strength was allowing her.

No other girl would have let him go, which was why no other girl would have made him want to stop.

He loosened his arms from her waist and gently placed a last kiss on her forehead. Picking up his Invisibility Cloak from where it had fallen from his grasp, he stared at her, still not sure how he was going to ever be able to stop looking.

She made the decision for him. Nodding, tears pouring down her face, she turned away first and looked back towards the castle.

"When I look back, you'll be gone."

Harry nodded, even though she wasn't looking at him anymore. All the emotion of the last few minutes was draining out of him again and the numbness was stealing its way back. He pulled the Cloak over his head.

Ginny's strength pushed at him, gently at first, and then more urgently. He backed up slowly, and then, finally, turned away, trying to keep the last image of her burned in his mind, even as his eyes once again found the edge of the Forest.

There was still no air. But soon it wouldn't matter anyway.


	2. A Kiss After Dying

2008 Author's Notes:

Here is the sequel to A Kiss Before Dying. I suggest you read that first, if you haven't already. Many thanks to my betas extraordinaire hgfan1111 and Ella. See, Ella, I kept my promise!

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Bits of the opening scenes are borrowed from my story Taking the Train. In writing this, I really liked contrasting Harry's behavior and emotions while in that King's Cross with the one here. Enjoy!

Ron's statement that "he beat you" is from Chapter 36 of DH - The Flaw in the Plan, pg. 730, US Hardcover edition. Molly's famous line is from the same chapter, pg. 736.

HPHPHPHPHP

Harry came to awareness slowly.

He was laying on his stomach. There was a solid surface under him and he couldn't see much except whiteness. A strange mewling cry pierced the otherwise quiet space.

Someone was in horrible pain, but Harry felt none.

After a minute, he realized he was naked.

Barely had the thought formed than robes appeared, and Harry dressed himself in them and looked around. There was not much to see. Was he dead? He must be. He remembered standing in front of Voldemort in the clearing. Remembered facing the Killing Curse and not defending himself.

And he remembered Ginny.

With an unexpected jolt, Harry realized the truth.

It was over. He was dead. He had left her behind.

And suddenly, it hurt.

Sirius had said that dying was quicker and easier than falling asleep, and true, Harry did not remember any physical pain. But he remembered Ginny, clearly and freely and desperately. He remembered the feel of her in his arms, her lips on his, just minutes before. There was a gnawing inside him, that she wasn't here. Or, more accurately, that he wasn't there.

There was no peace. He listened to the horrible crying, feeling as much as hearing its anguish,as if it was inside him, filling the emptiness. Did Ginny know? Could she feel he was gone? And what of the battle? Was she okay or was she hurt, dying even . .. alone?

Harry peered into the mist then, as if expecting to see Ginny running towards him with her blazing look, maybe grinning, that they had found a way to be together, after all. But there was nothing there, and Harry tried to take comfort in the fact that Ginny must be all right.

His parents and Sirius had been at peace. Even Remus, new to the loss of his infant son, had been sorry, but accepting. Harry was in agony.

He swallowed hard. What else could he have done?

"There was nothing else you could have done. You were perfect."

Dumbledore was walking toward him, a broad smile on his face. His hands, held out to Harry as if to embrace him, were unblemished and strong.

"I didn't kill Nagini." Harry forced his thoughts away from Ginny and focused on his failure; he didn't want to be right and good and perfect.

Dumbledore waved his hand. "A mere trifle." He peered at Harry, a knowing look on his face. "That's not the only thing you left undone."

Harry looked up. "What do you mean? Isn't the Horcrux in me gone?"

"Oh yes, quite gone," said Dumbledore. "Voldemort is very close to being mortal again. No, I am speaking of something of a much more personal nature now." He smiled at Harry, his eyes twinkling brightly. "Miss Weasley?"

Harry felt that Dumbledore's lightheartedness was wholly inappropriate. The pain he had suppressed at his first sight of the man came roaring back into his heart and his reply was bitter with loss.

"I . . . saw her. Just before. And . . . I said goodbye." With his eyes, Harry begged Dumbledore to let the matter drop. He didn't want to talk about Ginny. She belonged only in the privacy of his own thoughts now.

But Dumbledore continued to twinkle. "And did that satisfy you? Or her?"

What did the old man mean, torturing him like this? "Of course not!" Harry shouted. "How can you ask me such a thing? I told her I loved her and then I had to leave her forever!" He wrung his hands in anguish, angrily wiped away the tears that lay on his cheeks. But his next words were measured, quiet.

"She was there for me like she promised. Forever. And I . . . I couldn't give her that back." He turned away, looking into the nothing mist, towards the sound of pitiful crying that mimicked his own pain.

"She's got forever now. Forever alone."

"Are you certain of that?" Dumbledore's voice was finally serious.

Still turned away, Harry stiffened. Why did he always speak in riddles? He couldn't mean that Ginny would just find someone else, could he? Dumbledore was not a cruel man. Was he trying to prepare Harry for this . . .place, this existence, by telling him he had to let go? Harry couldn't bear the thought. His answer to Dumbledore was cold, harsh.

"What, you think Ginny is the type to move on right away?

"You misunderstand me," said Dumbledore as Harry snorted. It wouldn't be the first time. He had no patience for niceties. "So explain it, then."

"Have you wondered why you are here? Why you are not immediately with your parents?"

Harry frowned then, but at the same time, the barest flicker of . . . something ignited inside him. He turned back to Dumbledore. "Isn't this, you know, 'the next great adventure?'" He couldn't keep the sarcasm completely out of his voice.

Dumbledore just smiled. "Only if you want it to be."

Harry didn't want to dare put words to his desire. "And if I don't?"

"You go back. Finish what you began. And then, find your forever."

Dumbledore's voice was fading into the mist, even the sound of the crying was easing, and everything was getting dim. Harry didn't fight it, and suddenly he was acutely aware of the beating of his heart, pounding against his chest as it had during his walk into the Forest, his walk to death. Only this time, it was thumping with the agony of maybe, of want, of . . . please . He closed his eyes and let his mind fill with Ginny's face . . .

And then, Harry was there, lying prone on the forest floor as Death Eaters screamed around him after Narcissa Malfoy proclaimed his death. He didn't even want to believe he'd made it back, couldn't let himself think he might get yet another chance.

There was no time for those thoughts anyway. With the skills born of years of surviving in the face of those stronger, more evil, and infinitely more powerful, Harry knew that his "death" had to look complete - his mind focused sharply on his surroundings, his body absolutely lax. He did not feel pain as Voldemort tossed his body into the air, one, two, three times, and tortured it with the Cruciatus Curse. In the back of his brain, Harry filed away the lack of feeling, and what it might mean, but only when he was lying awkwardly in Hagrid's gentle arms, ignoring the rain of tears that splashed on his cheeks, did Harry finally allow himself to hope.

On the steps and lawn of Hogwarts, the fighters stood in stunned groups as Voldemort's voice washed over them, proclaiming the death of Harry Potter. Ron, frozen in shock at the top of the stairs barely seemed to register Hermione standing next to him even though he was holding her hand in a death grip.

"It's a lie . . . must be a lie, a trap," he muttered to the air. Hermione didn't answer, for once, books and logic and planning had no response.

Ginny stood just apart from them, staring out into the Forest. She had been walking around in a fog since Harry had left her, useless to the recovery effort, almost paralyzed with anguish. She hadn't told a soul that she had seen Harry or that she knew what he had to do. She wanted to keep those moments to herself, his last gift to her. Almost unconsciously, she touched her lips, trying to recapture the feeling of his, as they had brushed her own. Remembering his arms as they held her, still tasting their mingled tears that she hadn't brushed off her cheeks. She couldn't believe she would never kiss him again.

She couldn't believe because until that minute, when Voldemort's triumphant voice rolled out of the Forest, Ginny had hoped.

For a mistake, a surprise, a miracle.

Then the crowd of Death Eaters broke the forest's edge, Hagrid in the front carrying Harry much as he must have all those years before.

And Ginny stopped hoping and knew.

"No!" shouted Ron, nearby. "It's a lie!" He looked around wildly, as if searching for someone to agree with him that yes, it wasn't true. That his best friend wasn't dead. His eyes fell on Ginny.

"Gin . . ." his tortured eyes sought hers.

Ginny managed to hold herself together only long enough to let him see the truth on her face, and then her knees buckled. She would have fallen if Ron and Hermione hadn't rushed to her side.

"Ginny, no, please," Ron was begging, still trying to find a different answer even as Voldemort and the Death Eaters grouped in front of them and Hagrid laid Harry's body on the ground.

Ginny didn't want to look at Harry but she couldn't pull her eyes away. His glasses were askew, his hair more tousled than usual, his pale face reflected eerily in the dancing torchlight. He was beautiful.

Ron and Hermione were still holding her, and she forced her mind back to them.

"He's gone," she said with an empty finality. "He had no choice." She began to sob then, the unfairness of everything washing over her. It wasn't supposed to end this way. It just wasn't. He was the Boy Who Lived, dammit— he always lived. No matter what he had faced in the past, whether the Basilisk or giant spiders or Dementors or Death Eaters or Voldemort on more occasions than she could count, Harry always survived. Even when he himself had refused to see a future past the inevitable showdown with Voldemort, Ginny had been certain that Harry would triumph. It was the only way she could survive his leaving a year ago, the knowledge that they would be together forever, afterwards, safe in her heart.

And that heart, which had been broken when Harry had stopped, death already in his eyes, to kiss her goodbye, now shattered completely.

She screamed, the inhuman cry of loss. The sound George had made when confronted with Fred's empty face, the keening wail of her mother, the noise being raised all over the lawn even by those who barely knew him, for this boy who was supposed to be their savior. The sound got louder and louder until with a bang of his wand, Voldemort silenced them all, mocking their grief.

Next to Ginny, Ron cried out, "He beat you!" and the noise grew again. With detached eyes, Ginny watched Neville challenge Voldemort, his foolish bravery making sense. What else was there to live for?

She did not hear Ron's or Hermione's sharp intake of breath when Neville sliced off the snake's head, but their arms around her tightened suddenly.

"He got the snake," whispered Hermione.

"The last one," said Ron. "He's mortal again."

And something tickled the edge of Ginny's brain. A word spoken by Harry, an explanation.

"The last Horcrux." she said.

Ron did not ask her how she knew, but nodded, and a fire burned through Ginny, waking her muddled senses, diminishing her feeling of loss.

She would not roll over and die. Not when there was still a reason to fight.

A yell from the lawn. "Where's Harry?"

Ginny couldn't even focus on the fact that his body was gone, it was like the sky exploded in battle as people and creatures soared into view from all directions; suddenly the air was full of flying curses and the roar of angry voices. She let herself be carried along with the crowd towards the castle, but not as a passive observer. Every fiber of Ginny's being was on alert, watching, dodging danger, firing back as many hexes as she could possibly remember.

Somewhere, Harry was watching her. She would not disappoint. It was her last gift to him.

And then she was fighting as she had never fought before. She and Hermione and Luna all battling Bellatrix, who was maniacal in her rage, delighting in the battle and the chance to maim, to kill.

Ginny focused her own anger, using it to add strength to her curses, knowing in the back of her mind that only one curse could end it, but not sure she had the power behind her, even as her hatred at Bellatrix intensified. Could she take a life? Even one as despicable as that before her?

Bellatrix obviously did not share Ginny's concerns. "Avada Kedavra!" she roared, and a green jet of light flew by Ginny's face, so closely she thought she heard death. She froze in place, unable to react, and suddenly she didn't have to.

"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!"

And there was her mother. Furious. Glorious. More righteous than Ginny had ever seen her. Ginny had to suppress a grin. Bellatrix had no idea what she had gotten herself into. Ginny feared her mother's wrath when she was guilty of nothing more than tracking dirt into the kitchen. The thought of Molly Weasley angry and fighting to protect the lives of her remaining children was one of the most awesome sights Ginny had ever seen.

There was no question that her mother would win and Bella would fall. But that inevitability did nothing to prepare Ginny for what came next.

In a flash, Voldemort turned towards her mother, fury in his red eyes, and a voice rang out over the Great Hall.

"PROTEGO!"

Ginny's heart stopped. She knew that voice. But it couldn't be.

But it was. IT WAS.

A flick of his Cloak. His face, pale, but determined. More importantly, alive.

Her head swam and her eyes filled. Her heart, so recently shattered, could not believe. She wanted to scream, she wanted to run to him and throw her arms around him and never let him go. She needed to make sure this was real, that Bellatrix' curse had not found its mark and she was now dead herself.

But instead, she had to watch, silently, as the man she loved faced Voldemort yet again.

Her eyes drank him in; she couldn't stop looking. He had eyes for no one but Tom. Gone was the fear and pain and desperation she had seen before he walked into the Forest. Gone was the boy who had cried in her arms, the boy who had no choice. He knew something else now, she was sure of it.

And Ginny knew as well.

She tried her best to focus on his words as he and Tom circled around the center of the Great Hall, Harry's confident assurance was so very different from Voldemort's derisive rage, which carried in it even a hint of panic. His green eyes glowed with life out of his bruised and dirty face. Tracks of sweat, and probably tears, still lingered on his cheeks. His robes were ripped, and couldn't even begin to contain the power that crackled around him. He was beautiful.

It seemed to drag on forever, and at the same time, it was over so quickly. There was a moment of absolute silence. And in that moment, Harry caught her eye from across the room. For the briefest second, they were the only ones there.

Ginny didn't even have time to read the look on Harry's face before those watching and waiting exploded in celebration around him. But she could guess what it said. And then she was there too, with Ron and Hermione and everyone else. She grabbed his hand, through the crowd.

Harry couldn't even see her face, but he knew it was her and he held on as tightly as he could.

But all too quickly, those who didn't know bore her away, wanting their own turn to touch and fawn. And that was okay with her, for now. This wasn't the Quidditch Cup, with a big dramatic race across the room into his arms. It wouldn't have been right; it wouldn't have been them.

Ginny sat for a while with her mum and brothers, barely awake, not wanting to talk. When she saw Harry sneak away under his Cloak, stopping only to take Ron and Hermione with him, she followed them silently. This was his moment for them. The ones who had been with him almost every step of the way. At one time, it might have hurt, but she knew better now.

And when he returned and headed, finally alone, up to Gryffindor Tower, Ginny held back. She was willing to wait, in the face of his obvious exhaustion, for their reunion. It was not that she needed it to be perfect, she was sure it wouldn't be. But it had to be on their terms, not forced upon them as their goodbye had been.

Even though she understood, better than ever now, that lives and futures could disappear in an instant, she stayed hidden while Harry walked away. She knew that if he had seen her, he would have stopped. But she could see how tired he was, how utterly spent from not just hours or months, but years of fighting. Most importantly, Ginny knew that she was the one he wanted, that had he been any more awake or aware, he would have been looking for her, instead of his bed. For now, she had to think of him. She gave him a head start, then headed up to Gryffindor Tower. At least she could watch him sleeping.

Harry walked almost all the way to his room in Gryffindor Tower before he stopped and turned around. His body may have craved sleep, but for once, his mind and his heart were in total agreement.

Find Ginny.

At that moment, he needed her more than he needed his bed, or food, or even a shower.

He hoped she didn't mind.

Suddenly, he couldn't wait another second. How could he have thought of sleep? Was he really that thick? He had to find her!

He didn't have far to go. As he stood stupidly in the common room, trying to make his brain work enough to think about where she might be, the portrait hole opened, and there she was.

They stared at each other for a long minute, both almost unable to believe that yes, they were actually standing there looking at each other, that they were both alive, and finally, alone.

Harry forced himself to take deep breaths; he was afraid that if he made one wrong move, it would all disappear with a pop.

Ginny understood. He didn't yet know that this was real. She gave Harry a moment, shaking her head at him, an indulgent smile on her face.

"You daft boy. What did you do?"

The smile on her face, her easy words, did the trick; Harry couldn't stay across the room. He almost ran forward and wrapped himself around Ginny as if she was something he had to keep safe. She made a tiny sound in his arms, an "ohhh" against his neck as she rested her head on his chest. His voice trembled as he answered her.

"I died." Ginny stiffened and looked up at him, the pain of memory plain on both their faces.

"But Dumbledore told me I could come back, if I wanted." Harry looked down at Ginny, their faces now so close that the rest of the room faded into a gold and crimson blur around him. "So I did. I needed to find my forever."

Her voice was barely a whisper. "And did you?"

"I'm holding it in my arms."

His hand moved to lift Ginny's chin as he gently touched his lips to hers. Her hand moved to the back of his neck as she pulled him closer, not caring that her tears were once again falling on his cheeks. Their bodies shifted as they each moved, merging almost into one figure, trailing soft kisses over cheek and jaw and mouth. Ginny wanted to touch every part of Harry's face with her lips, to reassure herself that he was here, solid and unharmed. She ran her hands through the back of his hair, longer now than it had ever been. She had dreamed of touching him like this for nearly a year. The reality of it was almost overwhelming.

Harry closed his eyes and let himself get lost in the exploration of Ginny's lips across his face, so much so that he barely realized he had stopped kissing her back. Her lips moved back to his, and he began to kiss her again, opening his mouth and feeling like he had come home when she did the same. A low moan of contentment startled him, and he realized that he himself made the sound. He opened his eyes again, relishing the fact that he could just look at her, leaning in until they were forehead to forehead, both breathing heavily.

Was it really less than a day since their last, terrible kiss goodbye?

Harry wanted to stand there forever, kissing Ginny. There was no urgency, and yet, he couldn't even imagine trying to stop. But both of them were nearly swaying with exhaustion and he knew that the next few days were going to carry little rest. Taking her hand, he silently led her up the stairs to the boy's dormitory.

The room was achingly familiar. Harry pulled Ginny down next to him, needing to make everything clear, now that his words would not be lost to memory by his death.

"I love you, Ginny."

Ginny smiled, gently kissing his forehead as she pushed him down onto the pillows, slowly removing his glasses. Her tenderness brought exhaustion over him like a blanket. Ginny moved her mouth to his for one last kiss and then curled up beside him.

"I love you, Harry. Forever."

And finally, they slept.


End file.
